The Taste of Earth and Sky

 Angyl and Rina

January 2003

Disclaimer:. LotR and all its characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. 

Legolas had first seen him when he'd come to Elrond's house, not yet an adult, barely out of childhood. He was at that awkward stage, long, coltish legs and feet too big for his frame, arms that didn't hang just right and hands he wasn't quite sure what to do with. He'd been beautiful to the ageless Elf's eyes. So full of bright promise and hope.

The Lady Arwen, too, had seen the potential lying in the sleepy form of the Man-child and had promised to allow him to court her when he had grown some. Foolish woman, denying herself the pleasure of his growing years. And yet the young prince Aragorn had acted like all young princes do when faced with the love of a fair Elf maiden. He had pledged himself to her and said he would one day prove his worth.

Legolas, being a much older Elf than Elrond's young daughter and a prince in his own right, shook his head at that. Young Aragorn had already proven his worth tenfold, for only one willing to risk that most precious to them, their own heart, could truly call himself a Man, or so Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of the Northern Elves of the Mirkwood Forest, thought.

But Legolas, being a creature of honor, quietly let his heart lie fallow, not wanting to intrude upon the vow the young prince of Gondor had made to his lady. He did, however, promise to be friend, teacher, and companion to Aragorn. When the young Man expressed his wish to be a Ranger, Legolas took it upon himself to train him and teach him the ways of the woods.

And now here they were, Aragorn, or Strider as he chose to be called, now eighteen summers and in the first bloom of manhood and he, still ageless and ever young as all Elves, trapped in a snow cave in the middle of a forest in the middle of the winter and his Human companion was in danger of freezing to death.

"Come closer, my friend. I will tell you the tales my father told me as we huddle together for warmth. I will tell you of the Western Lands and how the Elves became sundered from our kin and of Luthien Tinuviel and her mortal love Beren."

Drawing his cloak higher up around his shoulders and shifting closer to Legolas, Strider turned his head, looking at his friend, a small smile curving his lips upward. "It's that bad, is it? In that case, perhaps you should tell me another story. Tell me of the first time you fell in love, Greenleaf."

Being but a young Man, Aragorn was entranced by such tales and was willing to give his very life if it would win him fair Arwen's hand. Legolas though... his friend was always quiet on the topic of love, though in his 2900 years, the Elf had to have known it more than once.

Strider shivered, and continued to look at Legolas, studying the Elf's fine-boned features and deep blue eyes with a skill that was as much bred into him as trained. The blood of the kings of Gondor may have run through his veins, but it was mixed with the lines of woodsmen and hunters, and those skills had been honed by his time with the Elves. "Something troubles you, my friend. Speak of it so that your heart will be lightened and we may pass the night in comfort." Aragorn smiled. "I know how you toss and turn when something is weighing on your heart."

"Ahh, but there are burdens meant to be shared and those meant to be kept close to your heart and not spoken of, young Aragorn. It is something you will learn as you grow older," Legolas replied with a sad smile, his sky blue eyes becoming like a shaded pool of water - deep and unfathomable.

Wrapping his arm around Aragorn's shoulders, Legolas pulled him closer, and wrapped his own travel cloak around them both. Elven cloaks were a wonder, and each had a little magic woven into them along with the threads that made them up. His cloak was big enough for the both of them and would keep them dry and somewhat warm. Hopefully their combined body heat would be enough to add to the warmth and keep his companion alive.

"The storm should blow over by morning, and the snow should keep the worst of the wind off of us. We must be careful to keep the way out open though, for we could suffocate under this pretty white stuff very easily," Legolas warned softly. "But if luck and Ereindil are with us, we'll be back at the Wayfarer's Inn by nightfall with hot cider and a roaring fire and soft down beds to help warm us up."

"But you wish to know of my first love," Legolas continued, hugging the young Man closer as he felt a shiver wrack Strider's frame. "There is love, and then there is love; you know this, of course. I am an Elf who is still in my youth among my people. 2900 years may seem old to you, but I am very much as you are amongst my people, and being the youngest of my family makes it only more so. I have played at love but have only, truly, loved twice in my life. Once it was returned, one is unrequited, and both have been with mortal Men like you, my friend."

"Truly?" While not surprised at the fact that Legolas' loves were both Men as the Elves viewed any form of love sacred and blessed, Aragorn was amazed that both had been Human. "Why was the one unrequited? If you spoke of your feelings, surely your beloved was not so cruel as to dismiss you callously!"

The thought of that result brought a chill to the Ranger's heart, one that had nothing to do with the cold around them. He noted that Legolas' expression had turned pensive, and wrapped an arm around his friend's waist, hugging him in an effort to forestall the line of conversation. "Forgive me, friend. Perhaps you should tell me of the Man who returned your love, and, in speaking of happier times, warm us both with the light of your memories."

Legolas laughed lightly. "It was a long time ago; I was barely 1000, and he was an older Man, a great prince of his people. He taught me of love between two men. Although Elves consider all aspects of love special, it was not one that had appealed to me as of yet. I was still young enough to be taken by the fragile beauty of Elf maidens dressed in their shimmering gowns that look spun of glass and air. I had not yet learned to see the appeal of the similar.

"And yet in this prince's face I saw such masculine beauty the first time I ever gazed at him that I swore my heart stopped beating for a moment.

"I was a member of the Elven envoy sent to witness his coronation, and it was my first time leaving the forest and seeing the world of Men. We traveled far to the land of Gondor to witness the investment of one of your ancestors," Legolas added.

"I had but a few brief days with my lover before he had to do what duty and destiny demanded, but it was enough. It was enough to warm my heart until recently. When I fell in love once again," Legolas finished with a sad grin, marveling at the way fate seemed to constantly intertwine his life with the lives of the kings of Gondor.

"And this new love, he did not spurn me, my young friend Aragorn, for he does not know. I have sworn to keep this love secret, for he has already expressed interest in another... and she is as beautiful and rare as my people's even.... one of my people's most prized jewels.

"It is probably for the best that I do not speak of this love, for if I did and he were to ask... I would give up the Havens for him. I fear that I could love him so greatly that I would chose to grow old and die rather than live without him. But he does not know, so I can safely pine away and never be touched by this great love that could change me forever," Legolas continued softly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to his companion's temple, though he was not aware of doing so, and his hands now stroking and caressing instead of chafing cool skin.

Aragorn lowered his head, mourning his friend's lost chance at happiness long ago and the chance he denied himself at this time. Legolas had so much to offer, both as a man and as a prince of his people; it would take a fool to miss his interest or to spurn it. He sighed, leaning into the Elf's embrace, his own turbulent emotions soothed by the gentle movements of his companion's hands over his back and arms.

"For you not to say anything is unfair - to the both of you," he said quietly. "Interested in another he may be, but perhaps that is only because he has not had cause to view you in the light of a lover rather than a... " Aragorn paused here, dark brows knitting together over his blue eyes as he raised his head to meet Legolas' gaze. A friend - a Human friend - who was interested in another - the jewel of her people. Could he possibly mean...

"My friend, does this great love of your life have a name? Perhaps I have met him and can give you counsel as to his true thoughts and feelings."

Closing his eyes, recognizing the light of the hunt that just entered his young friend's eyes and the dawning recognition of events, Legolas cursed himself for a fool. He had given too much away, and now Aragorn suspected. How to salvage this with his dignity intact, though?

"This love has many names that he goes by, so I am sure you have crossed his path once or twice. But alas, like my last love, this new one is also bound up in duty and destiny. How can I think to sway him from his path and still call myself his friend?" Legolas asked hollowly.

"Would that it were simple, just he and I, but... there are great and evil things at work in our world. We live in a time where Men will come into their own and fulfill their destiny while we Elves fade back to the Havens and cross the Sundered Sea to return home. I fear that the Man I love will be a maker of destiny and as such will become a legend among his own people. Who am I to put my own tiny wants and needs above that?"

"I hope that you will not take my words as an insult if I tell you that to do so would only be human," Aragorn answered. "And is it such a tiny thing to be happy or to want a dear friend to feel the same?

"You say the time of the Elves is ending, but, as all things are relative, the end of your era may come long after I am in my grave." Keeping his gaze fixed on Legolas', watching the swift, subtle play of emotions across the Elf's fine-boned features, Aragorn continued. "Although you have not named him, I believe that I may know this fellow and also believe that what I said earlier was true. He has not allowed himself to see you as more than a friend because the idea has never crossed his mind. But if it were to... While the jewel of her people holds a place in his heart, there is an equal place for the prince of the Mirkwood."

The Elf prince's eyes closed, and moisture that could not be spared leaked out of their corners. "You are truly as much Elf as you are Man, my friend. You speak with the eloquence of Elrond and counsel as wisely as he would," Legolas admitted with a shaky laugh.

"But perhaps there is yet another reason I do not speak, and this one is far less noble than one would think. I am afraid. If I were to give free rein to this feeling, it would consume me. I know, in my deepest heart of hearts, that this one love would be the love of my lifetime, and I would be faced with the most terrible of choices. To stay eternally young and watch him grow old and die or to turn my back on all that I have known and become 'Man'. Quite the dilemma, don't you agree?"

Aragorn nodded sadly. How cruel the fate that had now led him to two loves, both of whom would have to give up that which defined them to be with him. "In this matter, I cannot offer any advice, my friend," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "You know your own heart better than any. But perhaps I may offer this one comment - or action."

Not wanting to bring Legolas any more anguish or confusion, Aragorn nevertheless did as his heart dictated and, leaning in, brushed a gentle kiss over the Elf's thin, cool, lips.

"Oh my love," Legolas sighed, tears turning crystalline in the snow cave and freezing on his cheeks, perfect and brilliant. "If this is my doom, I embrace it," he whispered in ancient Elvish. That said, the Elven prince returned the kiss, heating it as his blood boiled, long banked desires flaming to life and poured into the touch of lips to lips.

"Perhaps the Havens are not so wondrous a place as my father and mother have told me. Perhaps I would not be happy anywhere but Middle Earth, the only home I have known," the young Elf admitted quietly, curling tighter around his companion.

"But of course, you realize that now you have made these promises, you must survive the night to honor them, my friend Strider. Our companions should find us soon, and then we will have a warm fire, hot wine and a soft bed to rest in."

Shuddering, the contrast of the cold with the heat of Legolas' body next to his a dichotomy of sensation, Aragorn nodded. "My time with your people has taught me the value of my word. I am a man of honor, Legolas, and what I spoke was the truth."

He shivered again, this time from the chill wind howling outside their cave. "Once we have reached a true shelter, then I will show you the truth of my words."

"I look forward to that then," the Elf smiled, a cool hand caressing the young Man's face. "I feel like I've waited forever for this moment. I can wait until we are both ready for such a thing. You have never loved a man before, my Aragorn. I would have your first time be in one of the arbors of my home, the dappled light of sun through leaves making you look a creature of the earth, so strong and powerful. I would see you on silken sheets with your every whim catered to and long, hot nights of loving waiting for you," Legolas whispered.

"I would show you my kingdom just once as I see it and then leave with you, for my home would now be wherever you are."

Opening eyes that had slipped closed, Aragorn drew in a deep breath, his whole body suffused with a need that he knew nothing could be done about at this time. "You do me a great honor, Legolas," he whispered, brushing his lips against the Elf's once again before resting their foreheads together.

"And you must recall that I have no home other than the woodlands, none that I desire anyway. The roads, the woods, the animals and wee folk, they are my family. Them, and you." The thought of Arwen hovered at the back of his mind, and Aragorn closed his eyes again.

"How is it that I can have two such loves? How will it end without pain for one or all of us?"

Legolas smiled; it was gentle and bittersweet, for he knew that in the end he would do whatever it took to ensure his love's happiness, even if it meant giving him up to the woman he was destined for, no matter what pain it brought him. But though time was finite for humans, and that time drawing ever closer, the Elf prince chose not to dwell on it. What would come, would come, and he would bend like a leaf in the hurricane and survive, somehow.

"To quote you Humans, my dear friend Strider, let us cross that particular bridge when we come to it. For now, shall we concentrate on staying alive?

"So I have told you a story. Now it is your turn to tell me one. Tell me of the kings of Gondor, as you will one day be one as well."

"That remains to be seen, my love." The words felt strange coming off his tongue, but also right, and Aragorn smiled. "Gondor is as if in another world to me, one that I might travel to some day but have no desire to do so currently. The kings are..."

He paused, falling silent as a drift of snow fell in on them. "Do you hear anything, or was it simply my poor ears and the wind?"

Cocking his head to one side, Legolas made a quick motion with his hand to indicate silence. It could well be their rescue, or it could be any one of the deadly predators that hunted in these woods; two lovely, half frozen slabs of meat would be a tempting treat to many of them.

Tracking the sound, the wood Elf breathed a sigh of relief. Too heavy footed to be a forest dweller and there were voices, whispers really, that he recognized. "We have been found by our companions, my friend. Come. Warmth and dry clothes are not far away!" Scrabbling out of the snow cave, Legolas led the way to their rescue party, fairly dancing over the snow's light surface, laughing in relief as Aragorn floundered behind him with a huge, silly grin on his face.

Dressed in dry clothes, now warm, fed, and sitting in front of a cracking fire with a glass of brandy in his hand to heat his insides, Legolas found himself oddly tongue-tied. He had confessed his heart in a snow cave when he was unsure of his love's chance of survival, but now they had survived, and he was at a loss as how to act.

The door to his room opened silently then shut behind him, and he felt the heavy, comforting weight of one of Aragorn's hands on his shoulder. Not looking up, he laced his fingers through the Ranger's and watched the mesmerizing dance of flame on wood. "Feeling warmer?" he asked at long last with a slight chuckle. "I could hear the staff groaning and complaining about the number of buckets of water they had to haul up to your room so you could have a hot bath."

"They were well compensated for their troubles," Aragorn smiled, crouching down beside the chair, his fingers still entwined with Legolas'. "And I'm feeling quite good considering that half a day ago we were on the verge of freezing." He tightened his fingers briefly and continued. "I believe it must be the company I'm keeping."

The time apart while he had been bathing had given Aragorn time to think, and while he still held concerns for what the future would bring, he could not fault the path his life had suddenly taken. He would always love Arwen--she was his beautiful, unattainable star--but Legolas... The Elven prince of the Mirkwood was in some ways more human than he was and was beloved because of it.

"I see the fire and the wine," he murmured, hoping the flush of his skin would be mistaken for a glow from the flames, "but where is this soft bed you promised me earlier?"

Legolas started a little, having thought that perhaps Aragorn might have had time to think and reconsider what he had blurted out in the snow cave. He had not expected the young Man to be so... eager now that they were safe and he had time to reevaluate.

"The bed is not nearly as soft as those found in Elrond's house, or my father's for that matter, but it is behind that screen with hot stones warming the cold sheets. I had no desire to plunge back into arctic temperatures, having just escaped their icy clutches," Legolas chuckled softly.

"Shall we enjoy the fire and the wine first and see where that leads us?" the wood Elf offered, wanting to give every opportunity of escape that he could. He would not force his love, not for anything, but now that the offer was placed before him, Legolas found that he hungered.

"Not having eaten, the wine may go to my head," Aragorn admitted, but then shrugged his shoulders, settling himself against the front leg of the chair, next to the Elf's leg. "But I don't believe that it will distract me from my enjoyment of the evening." He turned his head to look up at Legolas. "Or of your company."

"You have the silvered tongue of an Elf, dear friend," Legolas laughed softly, his hands stroking Aragorn's soft, dark hair lovingly. "And the heart of a warrior - passionate and proud. I am honored that you consider me important in your life. I only hope to one day prove worthy of that trust."

Grabbing the bottle of wine to hide his sudden turn of mood, the Elf prince poured two glasses and handed one to the young Man. "A toast. To beginnings, may they all have happy endings."

"To beginnings," Aragorn echoed, touching his glass to Legolas', then taking a sip of the crisp wine. "And to those who are important in our lives, those who have no need to prove their worth as they have done so a thousand-fold already."

He took another drink, still turned enough to look into Legolas' sky blue eyes. Of its own volition, his hand reached up and stroked the long, fine-textured blond hair spilling over the Elf's shoulders, closing his eyes at the silk-like brush of it against his roughened fingertips.

Murmuring happily, Legolas was barely aware of bending down, just of the feel of warm, mobile lips underneath his own. "You have been important since the first day I saw you under Elrond's roof. I knew then that I would one day give you my heart; I just could not admit it to myself. It was too much an echo of the past, and I was so afraid," the wood Elf admitted when the kiss finally ended.

"But I am afraid no longer. I am meant for you, Aragorn, last king of Gondor. I was born to be for you."

Aragorn lowered his eyes at that, and when he raised them, they were bright with emotion. "Now it is I who feel I have to prove my worth to you, my love. To be granted so much... it makes me feel terribly small."

He moved his hand to Legolas' cheek, stroking the fair skin before tracing his fingers across the soft skin of his lips, falling silent again under the weight and import of his emotions.

Legolas had to laugh at that, a smile lighting his eyes from the inside out. "You have never been anything remotely considered small, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You were born larger than life ,and your reputation has only grown. Even as Strider you are more than a Man. That I have had some small part in helping to show you your life's path... I am honored and humbled.

"But enough of this praising one another. We have spent a long, cold night in a most inhospitable locale. I think we owe it to ourselves to enjoy what creature comforts we now have. Such as this wine and that bed. Care to join me on it?"

"Most definitely." Rising to his feet, Aragorn took hold of Legolas' hand again though he knew the Elf needed no assistance in standing.

"The bed and your company in it are more welcoming than even the warmest fire, and more heartening as well." He leaned in and kissed Legolas, tasting the wine on the Elf's lips. "I - thinking of lying next to you, holding you, has been very distracting for me."

"As you have been a distraction for me since you started shaving, you young whelp," Legolas replied with a tiny chuckle, allowing himself to be pulled towards the bed. Quickly removing the warming stones, Legolas was grateful that he'd had the foresight to stack the wood high on the fire in order to increase the heat in the room.

Moving the screen so that it now stood between the door and the fire, affording them privacy while letting the light reach the bed, Legolas smiled gently at the suddenly nervous Man before him. "Relax, my most precious of companions, I will do nothing you are not ready for."

Stripping out of his shirt but leaving his leggings in place, he lay on the bed and held up a hand to Aragorn. "Join me, Strider?"

"Aye," the young Man breathed, slowly sinking to the bed alongside his friend, mesmerized by the play of the firelight on Legolas' pale torso. He's seen the Elf half-dressed or with even less on hundreds of time, but tonight it was different; tonight he was finally appreciating the lean, hard lines of Legolas' body, the silken, alabaster skin, and the lithe grace that was the whole of his friend.

"You are... I do not have the words for it," he sighed, placing a sun-browned and fight-scarred hand on Legolas' chest. "Perfection is the closest I can come to describing it."

"Not so perfect, merely different than a Man," the Elf replied matter-of-factly. "I am as far from perfect among my people as... any one person may be. I have a temper; I am stubborn. I am obstinate, and I choose to fall in love with the most unlikely of mates," Legolas chuckled softly, his hand coming to cover Aragorn's.

"My skin may appear unblemished, but there are scars too, my friend. Some you yourself have patched up in our recent adventures. They simply don't show as well as they do on you. And yours are a testament to your bravery and your strength. Each and every one of these marks," one of Legolas' fingers traced over an arrow scar in the younger Man's shoulder, "makes you all the more... appealing to me."

"As someone once said to me a long time ago, I have the perfection of a boy, but you, my glorious companion, have the beauty of a Man." Tugging Aragorn's head down, the wood Elf indulged in a long, sweet dueling of tongues and was pleased to feel the Man relax into him.

Sighing, Aragorn stroked Legolas' hair, his fingers slipping through the silken locks as if through water. "So sweet," he whispered, once their lips parted. "Better than the finest honeyed mead, that is how you taste to me."

He could feel the length of the Elf's body pressed against his, especially in his groin, and he knew there was no hiding his arousal from his soon-to-be lover, nor did he want to.

"And you are a rich, red wine, the kind that clings to your palate long after the last drop has been drained from the bottle. You are also too dressed, my love. Come, let me help you get comfortable."

Sitting up, Legolas began to unlace the ties that kept the Ranger's sleep shirt together. Loosening them, Legolas helped his friend sit up and drew the shirt over his head. "It probably sounds rather strange to you, but there is something about the hair of Men," Legolas sighed as he ran his fingers through Aragorn's chest hair.

"It is so unlike any Elf; it's so, earthy, so real, so sensual and tactile. I'm smooth everywhere, but you, you are rough and masculine and so very male, my love. I adore the contrasts, rough hair, soft heart, hard body, gentle soul." As Legolas spoke, he ran his fingers through the dark smattering of chest hair and down over a well defined abdomen. Reaching the band that held Aragorn's breeches to his waist, Legolas placed a soft kiss just below his lover's navel and gazed up at the younger Man, a hand hovering over the readily apparent bulge. "May I?"

"Please." Aragorn's voice cracked when he spoke, but the sight of Legolas bending there over his body, hunger burning brightly in his icy blue eyes, made him feel weak, and he shuddered to think of how the Elf's first touch on his body might unman him and prove him the youth he was trying not to be.

Smiling beguilingly in the half light, Legolas placed his hands on either side of Strider's hips and tugged, watching the turgid shaft spring free from his lover's pants and the rise and fall of Aragorn's chest as he fought for control of his desire. There was something to be said for being 2900 years old, the Elf thought in the privacy of his own mind. It was an advantage he intended to use to put Aragorn at ease and to love the young Man with all the skill at his disposal.

Tracing a finger up the side of Aragorn's shaft, Legolas leaned forward to kiss the younger Man passionately. "Relax, my handsome one, I promise to take very good care of you," the wood Elf promised. "And to make this a night you won't soon forget, either."

Drawing away, Legolas moved to rummage through his pack, looking for the sweet-smelling unguent he carried for various purposes, intent upon using it for pleasure this night. Returning to the bed, he lay next to the young Man and tugged him into his arms once more. "Feel free to explore me as well, my Aragorn, for I wish nothing more than to bring you pleasure as well."

Aragorn gave an almost desperate sounding chuckle and closed his arms around Legolas, feeling the interplay of his muscles beneath his palms. "Truth be told, my friend, I am more concerned with bringing you pleasure on this evening. I have known it myself from my own hand but have little experience with offering it to others."

"Well, I have a considerable number of years' experience," Legolas replied with a chuckle, "so who better to teach you the joys of not using your hand but allowing another to give you pleasure?"

Trailing long, slender fingers that were as comfortable plucking a harp as a bow, the Elf traced a path from collarbone to navel, watching in delight as Aragorn's stomach rippled and clenched in their wake. "I could watch you all day - have watched you all day when you didn't know. As good a Ranger as you are, my Strider, you still do not have the mastery of the forest that I do. The woods have been my shield many a time when I would indulge my secret longing to watch you from afar," the golden Elf murmured as he leaned forward to follow the path of his fingers with the softness of his lips.

Closing his eyes, Aragorn drew in a deep breath, his whole body tingling with the gentle seduction of Legolas' hands and lips. "Should I worry as to what you have seen when you watched?" he asked hoarsely, his own fingers carding through the Elf's fair hair and down over his shoulders and back.

Legolas' smile turned to a smirk. "Not if you don't mind me watching you pleasure yourself while bathing in one of the forest's pools," he responded lightly, surging back upwards to take Aragorn's lips in a passionate kiss.

"Tell me, my prince, what would you have me teach you this night? The pleasure of lips and hands, the feel of another body within you or the feel of yourself within another's? I would show you what most appeals to you and then seduce you to the rest," Legolas purred against his lover's lips.

Still astounded that Legolas had followed him and witnessed his most private moments but finding that he didn't mind, Aragorn licked the Elf's lips open so that he could taste of the sweet interior of his mouth. "Lips and hands for now," he breathed, doubting he could retain control of himself long enough to enjoy any of the others. "And more later."

"I think that can be arranged, Estel," the Elf breathed as he let Aragorn in, savoring the kiss for long moments until he had to let the human breath. Not waiting , Legolas began to map his way down Aragorn's chest, exploring the wide expanse of flesh. He nuzzled his way to taut, dusky nipples and then moved further, following the trail of hair down to the navel and exploring that with his tongue. Abdominal muscles were traced by delicate fingers, rough from bow calluses.

Farther and farther down, Legolas moved, until his nose brushed through Man curls and he could breathe in Aragorn's scent. "I would taste you, if you would let me," he requested quietly, adoring eyes looking up at the panting Man.

Swallowing hard to wet his mouth, Aragorn nodded, lost in the wonder of the expression in the Elven prince's eyes. "Please," he whispered, pushing up onto his elbows in order to be able to watch his own seduction.

Eyes never leaving the younger Man's, Legolas pushed down a little further until his mouth hovered over Aragorn's erection. "So beautiful," he wondered, "like you are. The son of kings, a prince in your own right, your blood reveals its perfection even as you seek to hide it behind Elvish cloaks and Ranger garb. I would know you anywhere, my prince, follow you anywhere. You have but to ask," the Elven prince confessed before letting his tongue come out to dab at the head of Aragorn's shaft.

"But for now, I would simply have you," he continued with a sly grin before swallowing as much of the Human's shaft as he could in one quick gulp.

"I am yours," Aragorn gasped, his head falling back and his back arching as the wet heat of Legolas' mouth closed over him, sending streaks of pleasure through his veins.

Grinning at Strider's quick capitulation, the Elf wasted no time in wrapping his lips more tightly around the shaft in his mouth and suckling on the delicious flesh. He'd had lovers too numerous to count, but all save two had been Elven, like he was. To taste the flesh of Man, to give oneself to a Human, it was to know mortality and pain and bitterness. But it was also to know such sweetness and joy that it made one's heart sing so purely and sweetly that not even the voice of Elves lifted in song could rival it.

"I have hungered for you, Strider, Aragorn, Estel, my prince, my friend, my companion, my king," the prince of Mirkwood murmured when he at last came up for a breath of air. "And now I have you. Luthien must have heard my prayers and my laments to grant me this."

Lifting his head again, chest heaving as he gasped for air, Aragorn managed to shake his head. "I feel you value me too much, my love. I am only a Man; my true worth lies in my friends."

"You are a Man, true," Legolas agreed, with a grin as he let Strider's erection fall from between his lips, "as well I can see. And taste. You look like a Man; you smell like a Man; you taste like a Man. Who am I to argue with such irrefutable evidence?" the wood Elf continued, smirking, before diving back in to taste again, to engulf and consume the phallus before him, tongue lashing and teeth lightly scraping to bring new and greater sensation.

"Truly, I am a great debater if I can sway you with my logic in such a fashion." Legolas took him deeper, and Aragorn groaned, feeling his testicles tighten and draw up closer to his body. "And truly this will be over soon if you keep that up."

"Ahh, but you are reaching the peak of your sexual prowess, are you not, my love?" Legolas smirked up at the younger Man as he licked his lips hungrily. "That would mean that even if it is soon over, it is soon begun again!" That said, Legolas dove in once more, wanting to taste Estel's seed on his lips and down his throat for the first time, wanting to be the one to make Aragorn find his release.

"Vanima, a'mael, amin Mal'Quessir... {Beautiful, beloved, my golden Elf...}" Unable to think clearly, or, in truth, at all, Aragorn twisted on the sheets, his hips lifting up and off the mattress, and still Legolas took him in. Long-fingered hands stroked his chest and hips, and Aragorn moaned, shuddering, then giving a shout before feeling his seed jet from his body and down Legolas' throat.

Legolas swallowed rapidly, taking as much of his lover's release as he could and then slowly withdrawing, leaving the younger Man's erection spent and exhausted. Crawling back up Aragorn's long body, Legolas pressed his mouth against the Ranger's, sharing with him the taste of his own release for long moments.

When their lips at last broke apart, Legolas grinned down at his friend and brushed the dark locks back off of a sweaty brow. "See how delicious you taste?" he murmured as he rolled off and to the side of Aragorn, wanting to calm his own body before continuing on.

"Like the earth and the sea," the Man murmured, his thought processes still in a daze and his expression dreamy. "Will you taste of the sky and the stars, I wonder or of the deep forests from whence you came?"

"I'm not sure," Legolas replied with a small smile, "having not tasted myself on another's lips in longer than it took for some of the largest trees of Mirkwood to grow," the Elf admitted. "And although I am flexible enough to pleasure myself in such a way, the thought has truly never appealed to me."

Aragorn's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he gave his lover an appreciative look. "You... yourself? It seems I have underestimated you once again, my love. I would like the chance to find out what you taste of though, if you would allow me and forgive my inexperience."

"There is nothing to forgive," Legolas chuckled warmly. "We were all green at one point, even Greenleaf," he quipped lightly as he lay back. "And I am yours to do with as you please. By all means, do what pleases you most."

Chuckling a bit at the Elf's jest and feeling himself relax, Aragorn pushed up to one elbow and solemnly looked down at his new lover. "What I want to do is what pleases you most, my love. Would you tell me?"

"In all honesty, Estel, anything you do will please me. I have waited for you since you were still but a boy growing into being a man; I am happy to have whatever I can of you," Legolas replied, just as solemn as his lover had been. "But I would like to feel your mouth and hands on me... Learn me, Aragorn, and see if what you learn truly does please you."

A slow smile growing, Aragorn looked at Legolas and nodded. "I know the answer to the last already, A'maelamin. You have ever pleased me as my friend and boon companion, and now you please me to no end as my lover."

He reached out, stroking a hand down the Elf's slim, hairless chest, tracing the line of his body to his navel, showing no hesitation at all before brushing his fingertips over the heated silk of the Elvish prince's shaft, watching his face carefully for his reaction.

"Aragorn," Legolas sighed, his eyes falling shut on the moan of his name. "You undo me with the simplest of touches. What will I do when you find the courage to do more?"

Leaning in to place a kiss against the Elf lord's lips, Aragorn smiled. "Enjoy," he said, before allowing his touch to grow bolder, stroking Legolas' shaft from head to root, then down over his heavy testicles. At his beloved's sigh, Aragorn kissed him again before tracing his lips down the alabaster column of Legolas' neck and across his shoulder.

Arching his neck to allow greater access, Greenleaf's fingers tangled in Strider's hair, the dark strands like silk that clung to everything they touched. "There is no doubt in my mind that I shall enjoy this, love. Do what you will with me; I'm yours to touch and taste and explore. Anything you find fascinating, anything you've wanted or dreamed of."

"You are what I find fascinating," Aragorn breathed, trailing his lips lower, pulling back just long enough to catch Legolas' eye before blowing a puff of air over his rose-colored nipple. As he did this, he circled the Elf's erection with his hand and stroked him, searching for the combination of pressure and speed that would make his lover moan.

"Aragorn," Legolas moaned again, his breath becoming uneven and erratic as the young Man's awkward yet knowing touch did more to arouse him then the most skilled of Elven lovers. There was something about gawkish innocence coupled with the need to know more, the desire to please that was far more exciting than knowledge and skill. "What you think you lack in knowledge you make up for in pure talent, I swear!"

The Ranger smiled at that, turning his head to look at Legolas once again. "You always told me I was an apt pupil, Greenleaf. Why should this lesson be any different than our others?"

"I know not, but I should have expected it to be so," the Elf gasped as he finally gave in to need and arched his back up and thrust his hips forward into Aragorn's fist. "You were the most eager and gifted human student I ever had," Legolas confessed before biting down on his lip to keep from making any sounds that would draw attention. He was too much a creature of the forest to stray too far from his teachings, and silence was ingrained... however, Aragorn was on the verge of shattering that well learned lesson with hardly any effort at all.

Sliding lower, Aragorn placed a kiss on Legolas' navel and breathed deeply, inhaling their scents mixed together. "I hope I continue to make you proud," he whispered, sliding his hand faster and faster over the Elf's turgid shaft, feeling the fine tremors racing through his body.

"Lady of Light, you teasing little whelp!" the Elf half chuckled, half moaned. "If I were any prouder of you, then I might well explode like one of the Gandalf's fireworks!" Legolas' cornflower blue eyes closed in sublime ecstasy.

"For one who claims ignorance, Estel, your skill is almost unmatched," Legolas continued when he could draw enough breath to speak once more. "You play me like you pluck a harp! More, please, harder. Yes, like that," the Elf instructed. "So good, taste me, Aragorn, please?"

Lowering his eyes from Legolas' to the proud erection he was stroking, Aragorn wet his lips, then bent his neck to lap at the bulbous head of the Elf's shaft. Flavor exploded over his tongue, and his body trembled at this new intimacy.

"You do taste of starlight and the sky," he whispered, reaching up for Legolas' hand with his free one while he licked at the now slick flesh again, desperate for another taste of his lover.

Grasping the proffered hand in desperation, Legolas keened quietly as need flowed through his veins as sweetly as the sap of the sugar trees. Moaning almost continuously as Aragorn plied his skill upon him, the Elf suddenly gasped and arched, Aragorn's ingenuous skill his undoing.

"Estel!" he whispered, his release leaving him limp and panting on the bed beneath the younger Man. "Sut amin mela lle {How I love thee}," Legolas murmured quietly when he could again speak.

Placing a final kiss on the Elf's now limp flesh, Aragorn crawled to the head of the bed and smiled down at Legolas. "That is indeed fortunate, for I feel the same way." That said, he cradled Legolas' face between his palms and kissed him sweetly, offering him a taste of himself.

Legolas returned the kiss passionately, gentling it when he had tasted his fill, for the moment at least. "Sleep next to me, beloved?" he asked quietly, watching Aragorn with hooded eyes.

"In a field, the woods, the finest bed, or this humble one, I will be there," the Man promised, reclining next to his lover and resting his head on his shoulder. The Elf's strong heartbeat sounded in his ear, and Aragorn sighed, feeling contentment blossom in his heart.

"Quel kaima, A'maelamin {sleep well, beloved}," Legolas whispered, brushing his lips over Aragorn's forehead. "Morning comes soon, and we must once again be Elf and Man, Ranger and Wood Guide. We have dark things to hunt in the forest and creatures of light to keep safe. But I shall be ever by your side," the Elf prince promised, "until the end of our lives."

"I shall hold you to that promise," Aragorn breathed, feeling exhaustion take him, bearing him along with it to the lands of sleep.


  since 02-04-07


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